Finally Lynetta said, “If they had a rooster, don’t you think we’d know? Don’t you think the whole neighborhood would know?”
Hmmm, we all said, good point. But then my mom pipes up with, “Maybe they got it de-yodeled.
You know – like they de-bark dogs?” “A de-yodeled rooster,” my dad says, like it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard.
Then he looks at my mom and realizes that he’d be way better off going along with her de-yodeled idea than making fun of her.
“Hmmm,” he says, “I’ve never heard of such a thing, but maybe so.”
Lynetta shrugs and says to my mom, “So just ask them, why don’t you. Call up Mrs. Baker and ask her.”
“Oh,” my mom says. “Well, I’d hate to call her eggs into question. It doesn’t seem very polite, now, does it?”
“Just ask Matt or Mike,” I say to Lynetta. She scowls at me and hisses, “Shut up.”
“What? What’d I do now?” “Haven’t you noticed I haven’t been going down there, you idiot?”
“Lynetta!” my mom says. Like this is the first time she’s heard my sister talk to me or something.
“Well, it’s true! How can he not have noticed?” “I was going to ask you about that, honey. Did something happen?”
Lynetta stands up and shoves her chair in. “Like you care,” she snaps, and charges down to her room.
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